


that's captain america to you, princess

by osmia



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Young Avengers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osmia/pseuds/osmia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If the team captain would stop calling her 'princess', maybe Kate could actually kick the stupid goal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that's captain america to you, princess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selenay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/gifts).



> I really, really could not resist the temptation to write snarky soccer AU fic, so here we are. Enjoy, hopefully!

 

_Earlier._

“Kick the ball, princess!”

Kate is definitely not shy, not by a longshot, but she’s beginning to think she might be a bit ball shy, or perhaps something that wouldn’t sound so bad if she said it out loud.

She is going to positively murder Clint.

_The local soccer team is having tryouts! Have a go! Embarrass yourself!_

Even if she does look like she could break a few hearts in the new soccer get-up - and she’d better, given the price - this is definitely not going well. Not to mention the stupid captain singling her out as having absolutely zero aptitude for the sport, and calling her nothing but ‘princess’ all afternoon.

“It’s Kate!” The rest of the team have flopped onto the grass, bored, while Kate and… America, she’s pretty sure, stand rigidly opposite each other on the pitch, hands on hips. “K-A-T-E!”

America rolls her eyes and gestures at the goals. She’s got stars tattooed on her wrists. “Take your time then. Do you even like soccer, chica?”

Kate takes a few steps back, ready to kick. “No,” she grumbles. She’s pretty sure nobody heard that. Archery is her game. It’s not exactly a team sport.

She kicks, and the ball flies across the pitch, right into America’s hands.

“Nice try, Kate.” Kate thinks she might have preferred ‘princess’. She doesn’t bother to respond, just drags herself off to the changing rooms.

 

 

_Later._

“How’d you go, Hawkeye?” Clint asks, voice thick with amusement through the speaker.

“Badly, actually. Thanks for that, boss.” She’s not really annoyed anymore. At least she got out of the house. “And stop calling me Hawkeye! Why do you do that?”

“That was my name in the circus.” Completely deadpan. Kate rolls her eyes.

“As if. You were never in the circus. Asshole.”

“You’ll break my heart, Katie-Kate,” he says, just as Kate spots America striding down the sidewalk towards her.

“Clint, I gotta go. Things happening. I’ll drop by later, maybe.” As an afterthought, she adds, “And don’t call me Katie-Kate.”

She prays America didn’t hear that as she hangs up, mid-‘aww’ on Clint’s end of the line.

“Kate Bishop,” America says, dumping her backpack on the ground next to her. “You really suck at soccer, you know?” She’s wearing a shirt with a huge flag printed across the front, and about as much denim as Kate’s own mostly purple outfit.

“Well that’s nice. Thanks. Is this some kind of ironic hipster thing?” she asks, with a vague gesture at the shirt. “Because of your name?”

“I like the shirt. Look, sorry. I’m not trying to be… not nice.” She grins. “But you are really bad. Like, really, really bad.”

Kate, clearly having a hard time staying offended, laughs. “I am, yeah. Clint put me up to it.”

“Who’s Clint?”

“I mind his dog sometimes. He’s kind of old. He likes to think he’s my mentor or some shit, but he’s really just a guy with a dog and a fucking weird arrow collection.”

“Arrows?”

“Yeah we’re both sort of into archery, actually.” Totally crazy for it, _actually_ , but that’s not really at the top of Kate’s first impression list.

“Figures.” America says.

Kate bites back an ‘excuse me, what’s that supposed to mean’ and instead goes with, “It’s fun. You tense your back and breathe and relax and… _phwooom_.” She mimes shooting an arrow, her technique perfect, obviously. “You should try sometime.”

“Not really my style, princess,” America replies, earning another scowl from Kate. “I like my sports hands on.” Her hands clench into fists and she smiles. Kate thinks she might be just as crazy for soccer as her and Clint are for shooting arrows at stuff.

“Why play soccer then? You can’t even touch the ball with your hands.”

America shrugs. “Kicking things, punching things; it’s all good.” She smirks. “Besides, I get my fill beating up idiot criminals at night.”

“Very funny.” Kate’s eyes narrow. “You are joking, right?”

America chuckles at that, picking up her bag. “I was going to get a milkshake. You can come if you want, Katie-Kate.”

You total _dummy_ , Kate. Of fucking course she heard you.

She goes, obviously.


End file.
